Forgotten Fable
by mypoormusings
Summary: What if Emma and Jefferson had a life together in Fairy Tale Land? How far will Jefferson go to get her to remember? Takes place during Hat Trick. I don't how long this will be or if I'll continue it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Jefferson paced back and forth anxiously, busy mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. So far everything had gone to plan. (a plan that he had mulled over and willed himself to fulfill for months now)

Frankly, it had been far too easy to deceive the sheriff. Perhaps the lack of sleep she had received due to Mary Margaret's incarceration was effecting her judgment. Jefferson stopped pacing and returned his attention to the now unconscious house guest.

Her blonde hair had formed a veil of sunshine locks, hiding her face from view. (no doubt a result of her not-so-graceful descend to the couch) Jefferson moved forward in two long strides, kneeling down beside her and pushing the offending strands away. His touch lingered as his knuckles brushed lightly against her the curve of her cheekbone.

"Jesus Christ." he implored quietly. "What the hell am I doing?"

The question had certainly echoed in his head during the past few hours. After months of hiding in the shadows, watching the lost princess from afar, he finally had her. She was _his_.

_"But she isn't yours."_ his mind argued._ "Not here. Not without her memories."_

Jefferson sighed as his withdrew his hand. There hadn't been a single spark of recognition in her eyes. Nothing was triggered upon seeing his face, no feelings of déjà vu appeared when he shook her small hand in his and gave her a name she already knew. Jefferson was aware that he had more than one would call a slightly fractured psyche, yet he still cringed when he thought of the damage the curse had afflicted on Emma's mind. False memory upon false memory. Fabled years of childhood abandonment and some less-than-decent foster homes all had made the once lighted hearted girl he knew into a bitter and broken woman. He bent down and pressed a famished kiss to her comatose lips.

He half expected for her eyes to flutter open; for her flash that beautiful smile of hers and look lovingly upon the noble soul that had awoke her. But that wasn't how their story went, and he was no knight in shining armor.

Jefferson rose as he gave Emma one last longing look. His face then morphed into a set of great determination.

_"She will remember tonight."_ he decided. He would do whatever it took.

Jefferson had a plan, and he would get it to work.

* * *

Author Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone! I apologize for all the previous grammar errors (that's what I get for not proof reading my work) I looked through and corrected all the errors I could find. Hopefully I didn't miss any. Any-who Chapter 2 is currently in the works so make sure to read and review when it's up!

- mypoormusings


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews everyone! Sorry that the chapter is kinda short. I've been really busy with school lately so whenever I get free time I kinda just furiously type whatever comes to me. Anyway here's chapter two, I'm still a little iffy about it but I hope you enjoy it. Once again, any feedback is greatly appreciated.

-mypoormusings

* * *

"You're special. You brought something precious to Storybrooke,** magic.**

The sky was completely pitch black now. The moon shining brightly against its ebony canvas. It was late. Or rather, early. The grandfather clock read as 2:26 in the morning. Mary Margaret's arraignment was at eight. Which meant Jefferson had less than 6 hours to get Emma to believe.

Jefferson watched the blonde closely. She looked exactly as he had remembered her. Sunshine curls and dark lashes against porcelain skin. With the addition of a few more worry lines creasing her forehead he noted. Then again, she was in a more than slightly stressful situation.

She didn't appear scared though. No, she seemed perplexed. Bewildered. As if the notion of her being anything more than ordinary was absolutely ludicrous.

"You're insane." she said with sigh.

All traces of fear and annoyance were now absent from her tone. She spoke in a slow, calming voice. As if talking to a child. Her eyes were full of concern, understanding, and to Jefferson's deep regret: pity.

Jefferson had to bite back his tongue before replying. The last time she saw him was before the curse. Before Wonderland. She didn't know what his imprisonment had done to him. She didn't know the kind of destruction he was capable of, or how quickly he could snap. No, he had to stay calm. No reason to alarm her more than he already had. After counting to ten and taking a few quick breaths, Jefferson responded in the most civil tone he could manage.

"Because I speak the truth?"

She tilted her head to the side, giving him a sad smile. Again with the damn pity.

"Because you're talking about magic."

God if she only knew the irony of that statement. She had the most powerful magic of all coursing through her veins and was completely oblivious to it.

"I'm talking about what I've seen. Perhaps you're the one that's mad."

Storybrooke was certainly hell on earth. Everyone was so **stupid**, so ignorant. All the answers were right in front of them and they refused to acknowledge it. Surely, watching all of it day after day would drive any sensible bystander mad.

He rounded the table until their faces were mere inches apart. Her pupils dilated slightly as she became more anxious. He stared intensely into her eyes. They were a breathtaking shade of blue, slightly green, akin to the sea. Calm and clear, but as he knew, capable of a vicious storm. His gaze flickered down to her soft pink lips, which she chewed on nervously.

"Open your eyes." he hissed, inching closer. "Look around. Wake up. Isn't it about time?"

_Wake up. Can't you see that it's me? For Christ's sake Emma, look at me! _

She released a shuddering breath, blinking a few times more before swallowing the lump in her throat.

"What do you want?"

For once he actually considered her question.

_I want you to remember the man you fell in love with. I want you to not run away when you see the broken mess I've become. I want you to know that I still love you. Even though I abandoned you, and left without saying goodbye. I want to go home, where we can be together with Grace and your son. Oh god—_ Jefferson realized, fighting back tears.

_She had a son in this world. _A thousand of emotions ran over Jefferson's face at that moment.

Jefferson wanted so desperately to tell her all of this and more, but it wasn't the time. Instead he stuck with the original reason for bringing her here. Placing a firm hand on her shoulder, he forced her down into the wooden stool. Glossed over eyes staring crazily at his useless hat.

"I want you to get it to work."


	3. Chapter 3

Jefferson's eyes snapped open, then proceeded to clench back tightly shut as the morning light penetrated his sockets. Quickly becoming conscious of the damp earth beneath his cheek, he shot upwards, immediately regretting it as his head was sent spinning. He scrambled up off the ground, dusting off his clothes as he tried to remember where he was.

Then he saw it.

_ALICE PLESANCE LIDDEL_

_Devoted Mother & Wife _

_Rest in Peace_

Jefferson looked sourly at the epitaph. The events of the previous night finally coming back to him. He had found Grace at the foot of the tombstone. She had fallen asleep, exhausted from wailing at the slab of cement for hours. After collecting her and setting her back in bed he had proceeded to sit in front of the grave and do some mourning of his own. Of course, with the company of an old bottle of warm brandy by his side.

Picking up the now empty bottle of said brandy, Jefferson was brought to attention what had awoken him. Behind the blanket of evergreen forest, he could hear the faint pitter-patter of hooves. _The Queen._

Regina was the last person Jefferson wanted to see at the moment. He didn't need her snide remarks regarding his current estate, and he certainly didn't want any of her _"condolences."_

Jefferson straighten his waistcoat and ran a few fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to make himself look as presentable as possible. The hooves were getting louder, and he didn't need his disgruntled appearance to give Regina any inspiration for her usual tormenting.

The carriage was here now, but to Jefferson surprise, it wasn't Regina's ebony clad guards that emerged from the thicket of trees. Instead, a different royal's court advanced forward.

_King James? He and Snow White never came to this part of the forest…_

Jefferson froze as the carriage wheeled around and halted in front of him. He knew he didn't have the best reputation around the kingdom (Regina made sure of that) If one of her rumors had made its way to the King…

Well, that would be bad.

Jefferson swallowed nervously as the golden trimmed carriage gates parted. To his deep relief, it was the King's daughter that emerged from the fanciful wagon. Blue eyes and blonde curls that were far too familiar for this well being regarded him curiously.

Remembering his manners, he gave the princess a haphazard curtsy.

"M' lady." he addressed hoarsely. Suddenly he regretted his late night drunken wallowing.

"Uh h-hello, yes." she stammered. She looked around nervously, clearly the princess was not as skilled in socializing as her parents were. Her avoiding gaze fixated on the headstone.

" Sorry to interrupt your…" she trailed off. He noticed then that her wandering eyes had stopped at the bottle curled in his hand. Jefferson moved the flask behind his back self-consciously.

"—grieving…" she finished awkwardly, continuing to avoid his eyes.

"Oh, um, thank you. If I may ask your majesty, what brings you to this part of the forest? We don't normally receive visits from royals in this area…"

He contemplated the modest township uncomfortably. They didn't even have a proper cemetery for heaven's sake. Poor Grace would have to grow up with her dead mother lying in their backyard. Jefferson winced as he thought of his young daughter, motherless and only seven years old. How the hell was he supposed to raise her on his own?

"Well that's the problem, it seems the boys have taken me a bit astray… You wouldn't happen to know how to get to Troll Bridge from here would you? You're the first soul that we've seen in miles…"

Jefferson did know how to reach the bridge. He had been there once before, and didn't particularly care to ever set foot on the damn thing again. He couldn't imagine why she'd be looking for such a repulsive place.

"Troll Bridge?" he asked incredulously. "Why the hell would you want to go there?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, surprised at his curiosity. "I have business to attend there." she quipped defensively. "Not that it's any of your concern."

He gave the woman a once over. She got over her shyness quickly.

"Sorry, just wondering why someone of your…_ excellence_, would be in search of such a wretched destination. The bridge isn't exactly a safe place for someone as fair as yourself."

Emma simply blinked at the stranger, clearly unimpressed with the complement.

"I can take care of myself." she assured.

"Oh, I can see that princess." He gestured dramatically at the armed guards that were now glaring at him, their faces matching the blonde's agitated expression. Jefferson couldn't help but smirk at all of them.

"You're awfully smug for a man that supposed to be mourning." she retorted.

Jefferson's amusement quickly vanished, his smile now gone.

"Ah. Well… the grieving progress is different for everyone." he mumbled quietly. "Troll Bridge is just north from here, follow the river and you should make it there before sundown."

He turned away then, heading back to Grace and their hovel. Emma watched the man walk away solemnly, regretting her last remark and lack of sympathy.

"Wait!" she called out. " I, uh— I didn't catch your name."

"Right." He turned back, taking her hand in his. "Jefferson Lewis, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure's all mine." she said with a smile. Jefferson returned the gesture and set off towards the house.

"Oh, Jefferson!" He spun back once again. What else did she want?

"I think you might be forgetting something…" she titled her head towards his make-shift rabbit, the poor stuffed animal lay face down in the dirt.

"Oh crap!" he hissed, running to snatch the soiled hare off the ground.

"That's just— that's not mine…" Emma tried to hide a smirk as he sputtered about, a slight blush now creeping upon his cheeks. "It's my daughter's…" he explained sheepishly.

Emma's eyes softened a bit. "You have a daughter?"

"Yeah." he said, a smile pulling at his lips. "She's seven. Her name is Grace."

"Grace." she repeated quietly. "That's a lovely name."

"Thanks." Jefferson replied. "Her mother chose it."

Emma eyes wandered back to her feet then. Suddenly she felt like she was imposing.

"Well then, Jefferson." she turned, climbing back into the wagon. "Thank you for the directions. We'll be on our way now."

Jefferson nodded, bidding her a farewell. "Have a safe journey."

She gave him a small smile, closing the door. The guards quickly returned back to their stations, giving Jefferson a few more steely glares.

He watched the golden carriage as she rode away. Wondering if he'd ever see the princess again.

* * *

AN: So there you have it, Chapter 3! I looked through and tried to fix any grammar errors, but it's late and I might've missed some. Let me know if you spot any. I'm not sure if I like how this turned out, but I'm currently out of inspiration so... FYI: Jefferson's wife's name is the name of the girl believed to be the inspiration for Lewis Carroll's Alice in "_Alice in Wonderland" _( also this chapter is a flashback back to when Jefferson and Emma met in the Enchanted Forest, if that wasn't clear...)

P.S. : Reviews make my life, just saying.


	4. Chapter 4

A.N: I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER OMG. My muse took a very long and unwanted vacation. Luckily I was bitten by the writing bug last night and was able to get out another chapter! Hopefully it'll make up for my absence. I'll try not to take so long with the next one, promise.

P.S: don't forget to review!

-mypoormusings

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"I can't get it work!" she shouts exasperated, slamming the hat on the table. "What you're asking me is impossible!"

"No!" Jefferson growls as he snatches it, examining it for any faults, any flaws that could be constraining it's magic. This hat was his last hope, _she_ was his last hope. He had already lost Grace, he couldn't lose her again too."It has to work. You've made it work before, I've seen it."

"Seen me when?" Emma exclaims._ Was this man seriously that delusional_? "Where the hell have you ever seen with that hat before?"

He hesitates for a moment. Should he tell her, or would it only encourage her denial even further? "Back there," he finally says. "Home."

Emma just looks at him, blinking. "Oh." she whispers suddenly, as if it all makes sense now. She settles back down into the stool, sitting there for moment before putting her head in her hands and giving him a painful chuckle. "Oh, I see." continuing to laugh hollowly. "You're trying to say that we knew each other in this magical forest aren't you?"

Jefferson sighs. Of course she wouldn't believe him, why should she? Emma had always been stubborn, so stuck in her beliefs. Her hardships in this world had only enforced that. He had always admired how she could stick to her guns, going with her gut and fighting till the end of the earth for what she believed in. He had loved that about her, he missed it.

Of course now it would prove to be the end of him. She didn't know him here; she didn't trust him. She couldn't trust anyone, never mind some lunatic that had lured her off the streets. How could he get her to believe him when that obnoxious gut of hers was screaming that everything he was saying was a lie.

"Yes." he eventually forces through gritted teeth. "We knew each other."

"How?" she asks in a deadpan tone, clearly prepared to hear another ridiculous misimagined story from his fictionalized memory. She's obviously humoring him. He presses on anyway. "Well, you were a princess. It was part of your job to familiarize yourself with the civilians of the realm."

She shifts in her seat, propping an elbow on the table. "Of course it was." she affirms in mock interest.

He pauses a moment before continuing, contemplating how much he should tell her. "We… ran into each other a once or twice."

"Were we friends?" she asks, a blonde eyebrow quirked.

He smiles and it hurts. Were they friends? They certainly hadn't started out that way. "Something like that."

Emma looks at him, her eyes searching his face. He really believes this she realizes, this mismatched broken fairytale in his mind. She thinks of Henry and his book of stories. Stories and characters that he so adamantly believes in. It's a crutch, of course. A crutch for his loneliness and a mechanism to deal with the disappointment in his reality. She rises and moves to his side, and for a brief moment he cowers away from her. His cryptic and menacing bravado now dissipated. She sees in Jefferson's eyes the same hopelessness as her son's. It makes her stomach turn.

"Why it is so important that I get the hat to work?" she asks. Henry needed the stories to cope with Regina's neglect the isolation from his peers. Why did Jefferson need them?

He doesn't answer at first. His eyes fixated on ground. "You'll think I'm crazy." he says with a humorless laugh.

"I think we're way past that point Jefferson." Her eyes dip down to the gun still in hand. At least he's not pointing it at her anymore.

"Your son," he begins in a hoarse voice, throat suddenly dry. How often had he seen that boy sulking through town with that dragon of a mother hauling him by leash. He saw the way she dismissed his knowledge of truth, calling him delusional and sending him to the cricket twice a week. He wasn't his son no, but he was Emma's. If she loved him so did he. "Regina won't let you be together right?"

Her eyes narrow at his words. Why was he avoiding the question?

"Yeah, so?"

"He's the only family you have." Or at least the only she knew of. Her father had once threaten to have him executed if he ever broke his little girl's heart. He would never have guessed he had much worse things to worry about.

Emma was getting impatient. "What exactly is your point here Jefferson—"

"Family!" He snaps, cutting her off. "Family, Emma. That's my point." He points to a telescope perched at the window. "Look." With a sigh she moves, leaning down to put an eye to the lens. She expects to see the empty sheriff's station again, or maybe Mary Margaret's apartment. Instead she sees a young couple with a little girl about Henry's age. Slowly, she begins to piece it together. _The stuffed rabbit on the sofa. The tea set in the living room…_

"You think she's your daughter." she realizes out loud, and he's back in her face again. Piercing gray eyes cutting into her. "I don't think!" he hisses, causing her to jump. "I _know_."

_She is my daughter, _he assures himself_. Our daughter._

"I remember." He says it with so much conviction, so sure in himself, she almost believes him.

"Without that hat. Without _you_…" he struggles. "I can't have that." She looks in his eyes and notices tears starting to well up, tears he wouldn't shed. She sees her reflection and wonders if her own were mirroring his agonized face as well.

"Jefferson," she begins in a weak voice. "I understand, I really do. But I can't help you."

"Yes you can!" he insists, a frantic hope in his voice. "You could have so much power Emma if you just _believed_." He looks a her with a mix of love and pity. His heart mourns for the certainty the curse has taken from her.

"I can't!" she yells, tears burning in her eyes. "I can't believe in fairytales Jefferson. I gave up the idea of magic and happy endings way too long ago."

"But can you _try_." he whispers. He takes her face in his hands, the gun now long forgotten. To his surprise she doesn't flinch away. "Can you just try, please. For me?" For the first time she looks at him and doesn't see a madman, but just another broken, lonely soul. She knew what it was like to want a family. How many nights as a child did she spend praying that she could have a mother or father of her own. It didn't help that Jefferson looked at her with so much hope in his eyes, so much belief. No one in her life had ever believed in her like that before.

"I'll try." she promises. A small, aching smile tugged at her lips.

And for the first time in 28 years he smiles back.


End file.
